


The Sound of Settling

by beezyland



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Angst, Dissociation, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Hurt, If season 3 broke your heart into pieces this is me throwing the shards of your broken heart at you, Mental Health Issues, Nicky needs a hug, Post-Season/Series 03, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, apologies in advance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4225701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beezyland/pseuds/beezyland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They touch for the first time in months and all Nicky feels is the cold metal of the gold band around Lorna’s ring finger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of Settling

One of Nicky’s most vivid memories is of visiting the zoo as a child. 

It was a scorching summer day. She remembers because her hair and humidity have never really gotten along and Nicky was especially antsy when Paloma tried to tame her curls before they could leave the penthouse. She remembers being excited to visit the zoo up until she was actually there, peering into the cages at the sad, half-alive animals behind bars and baking in the sun. This particular memory hits her particularly hard on her death march into MAX. 

Nicky quickly learns the difference between MAX and GEN POP. She quickly realizes the animals weren’t half-dead because they were sad. They were just desensitized. 

It only takes a few days in MAX for Nicky to slip into a limbo mind-state. It happens so fast her pride would probably take a hit if things like pride still mattered. Being kept in a cell barely big enough for dismal furniture, forced to listen to the other inmates screaming in their individual cells day in and day out, can do that to a person. 

Time pass in a flurry of solitude, bare minimum recreational time and midday lockdowns where the watch commander spits at you if you don’t sit still during their counts that they always fuck up and have to redo. It’s odd, sitting there with fucking nothing and fucking no one, waiting for the cell doors to open, that is _if_ they ever open. 

In the beginning, Nicky stays strong and bears it. She tells herself that she deserves this. She’s a fuck up and everyone is better off without her. Red has enough on her plate, especially after that beating from Vee that Nicky couldn’t stop it even if she tried. With Nicky in here, Red doesn’t have to worry about cleaning up any more of her junkie prison daughter’s messes. Chapman has Vause again. Vause has Chapman. And Lorna…

_I love you too._

Of all the painful memories that cut through her psyche, hearing those four words from Lorna Morello is the one she wants to erase most. The sound of her voice, the way the words bursted out of her, riding on a shuttering sob, like she just couldn’t hold it back, _had to let her know_ , along with the tears in Lorna’s eyes. Nicky could feel Lorna hurting and it was too much. Lorna feels too much for all the wrong people and all the wrong things.

If Nicky hadn’t already decided the only way to survive is to forget, to cut out all the people and all the feelings this godforsaken place brought out of her, Nicky would have looked back just to memorize their faces, to take a piece of them for herself, fuel for whatever fucked up journey she set herself on this time, to know it’s real. But she couldn’t. Nicky didn’t look back, not once. Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. 

It’s better this way. It is. It has to be.  

Back when Lorna was still wearing orange, Nicky, who was admittedly intrigued, infatuated and so damn horny, managed to snag a seat next to the tiny Italian at movie night. Some shitty romantic comedy was playing and every time Nicky tried to make a pass at her, Litchfield’s very own Credit Card Caper (a Boo-given nickname, clearly) would just shush her, wholly absorbed in the movie. 

_“If he looks back, it means he loves her,” Lorna had said with tears shining in her eyes, her full attention on the screen. “If he looks back, it means their story, it ain’t over.”_

She doesn’t know if Lorna meant those four words the way Nicky so desperately wants — _wanted_. She doesn’t know if Lorna was waiting for _that look_ , but Nicky stands firm in her decision not to look back, not to react. The last thing she wanted to see was an _I’ll wait for you, Nichols_. The last thing she wants is for Lorna to romanticize their relationship the way she did with fucking Christopher. Nicky wants to be forgotten. The only way to do that is to forget first.

 

…

 

A month in and Nicky finds herself clawing at the walls. The annoying _need_ to _move_ clenches her gut and her untamed hair sticking to her skin only makes it worse. She has to actively stop herself from picking at it before she starts yanking out fistfuls in search of some form of relief. 

A month in and Nicky’d give anything to be back with her family, her friends, Red, _Lorna_. She remembers the withdrawals from when Red first took her under her wing and made her kick her addiction cold turkey. She remembers the sweating and the itching and the _desperation_ for a fix. This is different, but not. Craving human contact, conversation and _touch._ Hell, she even misses Norma, silently scribbling in her little notepad on the other side of the cube they shared for a time. 

Nicky knows she doesn’t belong here. If she isn’t isolated in her cell, she’s surrounded by murderers, violent and angry women who jump at the opportunity to smash your face in for looking at them wrong. It’s the middle of the summer and the heat is unbearable and suffocating and her hair is frizzing and her mind… her mind…

“I’m not an animal.” Nicky paces the short length of her cell. Back and forth and back and forth again and again. “I’m not a fucking animal…I’m not a fucking animal… I don’t fucking deserve to be here!” 

She’s not an animal. The animals never fight back. The animals are fucking quitters. Nicky isn’t going to lose her head in this place, not when she has people out there who still care about her, who _love_ her. She won’t lose her mind. She. Won’t. 

 

…

 

She doesn’t. 

Eventually, Nicky gets transferred back to GEN POP. Apparently, they have some heavy hitter coming in and need Nicky’s cell. It sounds like wishful thinking. It sounds like a dream. But if Caputo can throw her in there after some bullshit dick move to save Luschek’s dumb ass then he can easily transfer her back when an actual multiple-count mass murderer needs a cell in an already overcrowded and underfunded facility. Caputo can do that, right? It’s possible, right? 

It’s happening. 

Pennsatucky isn’t the driver and Nicky doesn’t recognize either of the COs in the van. Then again, it could just be her eyes that refuse to focus and can’t even stay open for long periods of time. Everything is too bright and distant. Even when she presses her hand to the smooth glass window of the van and feels the warmth of the sun just beyond it, her mind refuses to believe this is real. It’s like her head is severed from the rest of her body and her senses are mixed up and confused. 

“NICKY!” 

There’s a flash of color that makes Nicky clench her eyes shut. Suddenly, there are arms around her and solid warmth against her. Whispers in Russian. 

“Red?” Nicky jumps at the sound of her own hoarse voice. Does she really sound like that? When’s the last time she used her voice? She can’t remember. “Ma…is this real?” 

Red leans away with water in her eyes and she’s wearing a chef’s coat and now Nicky knows this is a delusion of some sort, a coping mechanism her twisted fucking brain conjured up because she’s just that fucked up in the head. 

“Nicky.” Red shakes her by the shoulders, shakes away at least some of the haze and grounds her like always. “This is real. You’re back. You’re home.”

_Home_. 

Nicky would probably laugh if she didn’t forget how. 

Prison is not a home. Prison is prison.

“Look at you.” Red coos and rubs her hands up and down Nicky’s arms repeatedly. Every sound, every touch, the look in Red’s eyes, makes everything feel a little more real. Nicky blinks hard and Mirage Red refuses to disappear. “All skin and bones and hair! The slop they’ve been feeding you in MAX must be just as vile as the slop I’m forced to serve out here.”

“Red, you got your kitchen back?” Nicky asks slowly.

Nicky tries to smile even though it feels funny on her face. They all thought Red would never see the inside of the kitchen ever again. But if it’s possible for Red to get the kitchen back, maybe it’s possible for Nicky to leave MAX. Maybe this _is_ real.

“In a way, but it is far from ideal.” Red sighs and cups Nicky’s face in her hands much like that night in the bathroom, when Red made her swear to never use again and threatened her with monumental consequences.

“Ma, I never took it, I swear.” Nicky’s eyes go wide, desperate and so fucking honest. “I was working a stupid, _stupid_ fucking it-related angle, but I—”

Red hushes her and the comforting, maternal touches continue. “Nicky, it’s okay.”

“No.” Nicky grits her teeth. “It’s not. I fucked up, Red. _I keep fucking up_. I know I’m past my allotted strikes and Russians don’t play baseball anyway.”

“Nicky, I’m telling you it’s okay,” Red says, annunciating ever syllable. “Listen to your mother. I haven’t disowned you. I’m just glad to see you. I was afraid I never would again.”

And Nicky can’t fucking take this. She just fucking _can’t_ so she rips her arms out of Red’s hold and stumbles back, leaning against the side of the hallway for support. 

“Why are you being so… _nice_?” Nicky asks accusingly. “This…this isn’t real. Okay, Psyche! Is this like an Invasion of the Body Snatchers flavored fantasy? You want me to play along? Fine. Who are you and what did you do with Red, huh?”

“Nicky,” Red says gently. “I assure you this is real. Things are just…a little different around here. As I’m sure you’ll figure out.” 

Nicky’s the only one close enough to hear what Red said, but the Russian matriarch’s eyes are over her daughter’s shoulder. Nicky feels someone standing behind her and a pair of eyes burning into her spine. 

“Nichols?”

She turns at that unmistakably and misleadingly mousy voice. Lorna is behind her, shoulders tense, fingers crossed in front of her, digging her nails into her skin. Lorna looks just how Nicky remembers—beautiful, so well put together, bright red lips. Nicky catches herself staring and can’t fathom looking away. She takes her time, takes in every detail from Lorna’s teary (panicky?) eyes to the gold band on her ring finger.

_The fuck?_

_No._

If Nicky’s head isn’t screwed on right, she doesn’t know how she’s going to handle a Lorna who’s fallen into another wedding obsession. 

“Nichols, there’s something I gotta tell ya…”

Lorna’s shoes squeak against the newly waxed floors and Nicky feels her heart ache with every step that brings them closer. Lorna bounces up on the tips of her toes, paints on a smile and launches into this fairytale about a princess trapped in a tower. The princess sends out homing pigeons to every kingdom, in search of a suitor, until Prince Vince, an Italian lover of Brazilian Jujitsu answers her, defeats a dragon named Christopher and marries the princess. Now all they need is to wait for the princess to be able to leave the tower for their happily ever after. 

About halfway through the retelling of the love story she lived, Lorna starts crying. Large, thick tears that roll down her cheeks. And her voice wavers, but her smile never fails. Nicky can’t tell if they’re tears of joy or an apology she can’t bring herself to say. Nicky is still having a hard time trusting her eyes, still unsure any of this is real, but there’s confirmation and also regret in the way Red is looking at them. 

In this moment, all Nicky wants is to run. She wants to turn and run in the opposite fucking direction, but she can’t. She just stands there with a stupid look on her face, mouth open, much like that time in the chapel, when Lorna rejected her for an imaginary fiancé. Except this time Lorna’s rejecting her for an entirely real _husband_. 

Suddenly, Nicky doesn’t want her here. Suddenly, Nicky doesn’t want to be here. The girl whose face and voice and _I love you too_ got her through maximum security prison, _moved on_. Suddenly, she isn’t in the mood to deal with anything, least of all this. 

Nicky doesn’t know what’s between her and Lorna, if there ever was anything between them other than sex and comfort and a way to not be alone. Lorna’s world fell apart around her after Christopher’s visit and the truth about why she ended up in Litchfield was revealed. The foundation of the existence she created within these walls had crumbled. Her lies and the things she’d done exposed. 

When Lorna confessed all of this to her on the steps, Nicky wanted to think it was more than panic and vulnerability. A true, honest connection in this fucked up fishbowl of a world. A real, meaningful bond independent of their individual murky pasts, that could extend beyond the barbed wire fences and into the future. Nicky could definitely see them on that trajectory — fuck buddies, actual _friends_ without the fucking, two people with the potential to be _more_. 

But she’d been wrong before. Why should this time be any different? After all, _straight girls. They’ll fuck you up every time_. 

“Nicky?”

“Uh, cool. It’s cool, Morello.” Nicky sniffs loudly and swipes at her nose with the back of her hand, shifting her weight from foot to foot, suddenly anxious and antsy.

“Actually, it’s Muccio now. Lorna Muccio.”

A harsh, hoarse laugh rips through Nicky’s throat. So angry, so bitter and so sudden. Lorna shrinks away, which is funny because Nicky expects her to be offended and defensive, expects for Lorna to wave her middle finger in her face with a _fuck you, Nichols._ Because Lorna has found her happily ever after and Nicky _laughed_ at it. Maybe Lorna isn’t lost in another delusion. Maybe Lorna does realize how deeply she’s hurting her, which only makes things worse. 

Lorna smiles, trying to be teasing and playful like they normally are and Nicky can’t look at her anymore. Lorna touches her arm like there’s something between them other than long forgotten meaningless flirting that Nicky still thinks about all the time and still tries so damn hard to convince herself is just that _meaningless_ , but has always felt like _more_. They touch for the first time in months and all Nicky feels is the cold metal of the gold band around Lorna’s ring finger.

“It’s good to have you back, Nick…” 

Nicky jerks her arm away and Lorna’s hurt reaction just makes her angry. Fuck playing along. Fuck saying what she should say. Fuck following the script Lorna probably has in her head or maybe she didn’t even consider this happening because _out of sight, out of mind_ , right? Nicky doesn’t want to fucking deal with this so she turns and she walks away until she’s running, but it’s not like she has anywhere to go. GEN POP is a bigger cage than MAX, but a cage nonetheless. 

 

…

 

Everyone tries to comfort Nicky, which is kind of hilarious. Whether they realize it or not, they’re just making things worse. 

 They tell her all about how Lorna was a mess in the days that followed Nicky’s transfer. Lorna stood at the window long after Nicky was shoved into a van and taken down the hill. Chapman, the former Dirty Panties Kingpin or something, had to literally drag Lorna away or else she would have missed count. They tell her Lorna stopped wearing makeup, stopped doing her hair and cried her way through her waking hours, her working hours and even in her sleep. 

They all paint this image of Lorna devastated and lost, but it’s a far cry from the Lorna right in front of her with her hair in curls and her lipstick as meticulously applied as ever. This Lorna who runs to Visitation to see her husband. Nicky used to find the way she runs, tiny body dragging and wrists swaying, fucking adorable, but now she just looks like she’s running away and to Vince. 

Vince Muccio who’s as Italian male as they get and is into girls in prison who he thinks are contract killers and may or may not have a parrot. Nicky pieces together this profile of the guy from things she hears from other girls who claim to have overheard it in Visitation. Not from Lorna herself, no. Nicky wants to hate the guy on principal, much like she hated Christopher, but one fact remains — if Nicky left Lorna a devastated mess, Vince Muccio put her back together. When Nicky wasn’t here for Lorna, Vince was. As long as she’s with Vince, Nicky can’t inevitably disappoint her ever again.

Nicky feels like a fucking creep lingering at the window when Vince visits Lorna. They’re both so giddy, all smiles and butterflies and blossoming young love. He’s her prince charming, the one who she raved about when he was merely an idea in her head. If this is what Lorna wants then so be it. If only that knowledge could make Nicky feel less sick to her stomach.

Why did she ever think she could be what Lorna wanted? Lorna made it abundantly clear that a former spoiled brat and ex-junkie could never fit into her future. Lorna even ended it once. What right did Nicky have to think any of that has changed?

_I love you too_.

Deep down, Nicky knows she can’t be angry at Lorna. It’s not like Lorna led her on. Nicky never told Lorna, not in so many words, not directly. An _I do_ isn’t an _I love you, wait for me_. What the hell had she expected? Surely, she didn’t expect to get out of MAX. She didn’t expect to see Lorna ever again. She didn’t expect to be so upset to see her with someone else. So envious.

“Why we gotta hurt ourselves like this, you think?”

Maria Ruiz, who Nicky doesn’t think she’s ever spoken to in all her years at Litchfield, leans against the Visitation window, back hunched, staring wistfully at Ramos on the other side of the glass, bouncing her daughter on her knee and cooing in Spanish.

“You talkin’ to me?” Nicky asks.

“Do you see anyone else around, De Niro?” Ruiz scoffs and mutters a string of Spanish under her breath. “I always wondered why you’d always lurk by the window, looking at everything you want, but can’t have, that others do have. I always wondered. Now I’m doing the same thing. I still don’t get it.”

“Who the fuck do I look like?” Nicky asks irritably. “I’m not your fucking counselor.”

“No, you’re not. Berdie got out. Lucky her.”

“Who the fuck is Berdie?” 

“Where the hell have you been?” 

Nicky shakes her head and turns to leave. “Fuck this.” 

“It’s probably best if you go,” Ruiz calls after her. “Their goodbyes get graphic. Like a bad porno a white boy like him would definitely jerk off to. See you, Nichols. Same time next week.” 

Nicky stomps away, annoyed and unnerved. Who the fuck does Ruiz think she is? What right does she have to even say that shit? Nicky doesn’t know what Ruiz’s problem is and doesn’t fucking care. But that doesn’t change the fact that she understands her in some small way because as predicted, Nicky is back next week and the week after that. 

 

…

 

In this fucking creepy alternate universe, Piper is an imaginary mustache twiddling cartoon villain, Red makes frequent trips to Healy’s office and leaves looking fucking _smitten_ , Daya isn’t pregnant anymore, Bennett is gone, there is a whole slew of new halfwits in Litchfield staff uniforms, and Crazy Eyes pandered to the inmates’ erotic fiction needs and got herself a girl in the process. 

Again, _The Fuck_? 

At least there’s still the library…that’s now mostly book-less. Nicky sits in the aisle with her back against a bare shelf. She closes her eyes. Finally, some peace and quiet.

“One of the new COs is here specifically to kill me.” 

“I thought too soon,” Nicky mutters to herself. She opens her eyes and sees a skittish Alex crouch down beside her, constantly looking down the aisles and over her shoulder. “Of course, this fucked up phantom Litchfield wouldn’t be complete without Tall, Dark, and Sexy Alex Vause turning into Paranoid Basket Case Alex Vause.” 

“Phantom Litchfield?” 

“Yeah,” Nicky says. “I realized this is all just one big hallucination. See, I’m still in MAX and my mind created this large-scale illusion to show me that maybe MAX isn’t so bad compared to whatever the hell this is.” Nicky motions to their surroundings and then to Alex. “Turns out maximum security is quite the natural hallucinogen.” 

Alex laughs like it’s the most amusing thing she’s heard in a while. “I hate to break it to you, Nichols. You aren’t in MAX. This place is as fucked up as you think it is.”

Nicky crosses her legs out in front of her and tucks her hands behind her head. “Whatever you say, Phantom Vause.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Alex laughs. “As long as you don’t think I’m working for the NSA too.” 

“You know, being an undercover agent for the NSA wouldn’t hurt your character. From what I’m seeing thus far, Phantom Vause is kind of lame.”

“Shut up.” Alex nudges her with her shoulder. “So how are you dealing, you know, with _Phantom_ Morello? Or what is it now? Mushio? DiMuccio? Something that sounds like a rejected character from _Grease_.” 

Alex cracks a smile, her poorly veiled attempt to lighten the mood. Nicky tries to shrug, but feels the tension in her shoulders, the resistance. Nicky knows better, but still asks, “So how were the phantom nuptials?” 

“Beats me.” Alex actually shrugs her loose, limber shoulders. “All I know is that piece of shit ring totally turned her finger green. She literally has a strip of green around her finger. Where did he get that thing?” Alex scoffs dramatically. “Trash.”

Nicky clicks her tongue. “Even phantom alternate universes can’t escape the Green Finger Effect.” 

Nicky wants to find that amusing, wants to laugh at Lorna’s expense and escape the rolling fog of angst and dissociation in her head, but easier said than done. Alex seems to realize she’s failing at making Nicky feel better and frowns.

“Is this the wrong time to tell you that Taco Tuesday is no longer a thing?” Alex asks.

Nicky throws her head back with a laugh that’s a little more lively, slams her head into the metal shelf behind her and groans. “Fuck me.” 

Alex lifts an eyebrow, but Nicky just shakes off what’s obviously an open invitation. 

“Wow, Nicky Nichols turning down a hookup? Shit. What did MAX do to you?” 

Nicky doesn’t reply, just slams her head against the shelf behind her again, this time with more force and purpose. 

 

…

 

It doesn’t take long for Nicky to settle into the daily grind. She gets reassigned to kitchen duties and tries not to think about how Healy must have made it happen under Red’s influence. Nicky makes a habit of walking out of a room when Lorna walks in and sitting at different tables at meals and not talking to her. The days slip by and Nicky almost convinces herself that she can live like this. She can almost convince herself that she’s numb. 

Nicky searches for a little alone time with her trusty radio that Red held for her (at least she held on to one thing for her) when Lorna corners her in the chapel of all places. Lorna’s hands are curled into fists and her face is red with what Nicky assumes is aggravation. Seeing Lorna ready for a fight, Nicky realizes she’s _tired_. 

“What’s with you?” Lorna asks. “Ever since you got back—”

“No,” Nicky cuts her off swiftly. “Don’t tell yourself I’m the crazy one, alright?” Lorna’s left eye twitches at that word and Nicky regrets it immediately. She regrets, which means she still _feels_. Her head tells her to _run_. “I’m right as rain. It’s the rest of this fucking circus that lost its shit.” 

“What does that mean?”

_What does that mean?_ Nicky wants to shake her. _Isn’t it obvious_?

“Forget it, Morello.” 

Nicky turns to the door, thinking to find some other corner of the prison where she doesn’t have to hear women mourning Norma rejecting her cult leader status or Chapman comparing the fall of her hot pink panties enterprise to that of the Roman Empire. Nicky catches herself _wishing_ she were back in MAX and _laughing_ because _how fucked up is that?_

“No!” Lorna shouts after her. “You don’t get to walk away and be all weird and distant and laugh at me any more! I tried to talk to you about all of this. I’ve been trying since you got back and all you do is ignore me. You’re the one shutting me out, Nichols.”

“Why do you even care, Morello?”

Because. 

_I love you too._

Nicky turns around to face her because fine. _Fine_. No more running. 

“Alright, let’s talk.” Nicky nods and bounces on her feet, jittery, not from a high or the absence of a high, but from a sense of nervousness she can’t explain, but feels consuming her. “You couldn’t wait for me, huh?”

Lorna goes lax, suddenly so soft. “You—you never asked.”

“Bullshit, Morello.” Nicky shakes her head, anger in her eyes. Lorna looks away like she’s ashamed and seeing her so upset, goddamn it, this is why words are shit and running feels like the best option every single time. There’s no taking it back so Nicky pushes forward. “You couldn’t wait for me, but you can wait the rest of your sentence for him.”

It isn’t a question. Nicky wishes it sounded like acceptance, not jealousy. She isn’t shy about being obvious with her feelings, particularly when she’s trying to get into someone’s khakis, but _this_? Lorna wasn’t hers and never asked to be. It’s stupid to be this childish and pathetic. 

In all honesty, Lorna was nothing more than a friend, a friend she barely understood. It’s just… They’ve gone their separate ways before, when Nicky was off having a sex competition with Boo and Lorna was taking the van for a joy ride, and they found their way back to each other. Was it stupid to think they could do it again, that they could keep doing it even after they leave Litchfield behind?

Now they’ve met again and that easy connection has been on the fritz since Nicky saw that ring. It’s still so hard for Nicky to wrap her head around it. Lorna is different. So is Nicky, hardened, a desensitized animal that returned to find its den on fire and its pack has left her behind. Maybe strays are always meant to be strays. 

“Does he make you happy?”

It comes out weak and even more pathetic. But like everything else, it’s too late to take back. Lorna doesn’t answer right away. She must sense how serious Nicky is and so she pauses and thinks. If Lorna has the sense to consider her answer, maybe she’s really trying to understand herself, what she’s doing and what she wants. Maybe she isn’t just riding another delusion. Maybe this _is_ real.

“He’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Nicky feels like she’s just been shanked. She can’t remember what it felt like when her heart gave out, but it couldn’t have been much worse than this.

“Handsome and Italian,” Lorna continues. “We come from similar families, got the same values. He says he wants to give me the world and I think he really does mean it. You get that, right, Nick?”

Lorna’s eyes are large and wet and pleading. Not so much desperate for approval, but understanding. She wants both. She wants the loyal husband waiting for her on the outside and what? What’s Nicky’s role in this new life of hers? The dutiful best friend who what? Makes her laugh and teases her in the food line and holds her when she cries, when _He_ can’t? Lorna wants Nicky in her life and it should be enough, but it isn’t, not for Nicky, not right now.

Nicky tries to keep her cool and forces herself to look right at Lorna. There’s so much she wants to say… _What the fuck, Morello? Yeah, Morello. Because this doesn’t erase who you were/are, who you were/are to me. You barely know this guy! He doesn’t know you. He isn’t right for you. What scumbag chases chicks in prison? This whole setup is bullshit! How can he make you happy? Sure, he’s into this now, but for how long? Will he help you when shit gets real, when shit gets mixed up in your head? Will he support you? Help you sort it all out? He can’t. Not when he doesn’t know you. He’ll leave you. He’ll hurt you. He’s not your future. I told you_ I do _. You told me you love me too. What happened to that? What happened to us? Am I just that easy to forget?_

But none of that makes it past Nicky’s lips. Her brain keeps firing them off, one after the other till everything hurts and she nearly forgets where she is, who she is, what’s happening, but Nicky fights it, bites the inside of her cheek and refuses. 

“It won’t be like before,” Nicky says with a calm that surprises even her. It surprises Lorna, whose eyes go wide, like she was expecting anger or to be brushed off again. “Not like how it was when Christopher was the prince in the story.” 

Because fucking the cute Italian girl with the fiancé who never writes or visits is one thing. Fucking the cute Italian girl who you’re _in love with_ , who said but conveniently forgot she loves you back, with the very real pen pal husband who visits like clockwork is another. 

“No.” Lorna  covers her left hand with her right, hiding the ring, making Nicky realize she’s been staring at it for some time now. “You’re right. It can’t. We can’t.”

“You love the guy?” Nicky asks.

Lorna nods, her eyes locked on the scuffed, dirty floor. She doesn’t say it and Nicky thinks it might be for her benefit, which she inwardly scoffs at. The last thing she wants is anyone’s pity, least of all Lorna’s. 

What is love anyway? Chapman played this game for her dumb newsletter. Everyone went on and on about how love is light and happiness, but Nicky knows the world, knows about interconnected opposite forces. Yin and yang. Fire and water. Light and dark. If loving Lorna Morello has taught her anything, it’s that love’s inescapable opposite isn’t hate. It’s pain. 

Lorna thinks this is love? Is love puppy eyes from across a table and desperate kisses at the end of Visitation? Someone who can’t truly accept her if he doesn’t truly know her? Someone who doesn’t challenge her to rethink what she’s always been told she’s supposed to want? What if being wired for self-destruction means Nicky doesn’t deserve and can’t have love, just pain? 

Fuck all of this. Seriously. 

Nicky wants Lorna back. It smacks her hard and seemingly out of nowhere. She wants the Lorna she knows and fucking loves. She wants to finally, _finally_ kiss those red lips and drag her behind the altar like old times. But she can’t. She won’t. 

“Nichols, this doesn’t mean we can’t be…”

Be what? Lorna doesn’t even know and Nicky is so fucking tired. 

“It’s fine.” 

_It’s fine_ is the new _I’m done_. Nicky doesn’t want to hear more. Doesn’t need to. She just has to stop Lorna from hurting herself, hurting the both of them any more. Lorna can go on living the fantasy she’s always wanted and Nicky can just…

“It’s fine,” Nicky says again. “Why should I expect you to break your pattern when I can’t break mine? I guess having someone, anyone, apparently, is better than having no one.” 

Nicky gathers up a weak, not-at-all convincing smile, but she can’t manage more than that. Not now. She had to go, get away form Lorna and that ring on her finger that’s hidden yet still absolutely mocking her. She needs to get away from Red making excuses and Piper lamenting the loss of her crazed power trip and Vause’s paranoia. Even if the yard, face pressed up against a chain-link fence, is as far as she can go, she’ll do it, because this, this _thing_ her home has twisted into, makes her crave heroin, crave her cell in MAX, crave death.

She laughs to herself at that last one. She tried that once and not even death wanted her. Nicky turns to leave, not run, because they’ve finally had the conversation. This is just the punctuation mark at the end of the sentence at the end of the chapter that was whatever they had.

“Nicky…wait!”

“What?” 

“You…” Lorna sucks in a loud breath like she _needs_ to breathe, but her body refuses. “You’re the realest person I know…”

And the look in her eyes is less of an apology and more _fear_. 

“Vince,” Lorna says. “He’s safe.” 

That’s all it takes for Nicky to realize Lorna isn’t just a pretty little fool. Confused and manic at times, impulse-driven and sick, but no fool. Nicky feels like a fool. This isn’t some parallel universe or a figment of her imagination. This is real. Very real. _Too_ real. If this isn’t real, she’d be waking herself from this nightmare right now. If this isn’t real, it shouldn’t hurt this much. 

“He’s safe,” Nicky repeats to make it feel real. “And I’m a fuck up.” 

“No…”

Lorna’s shaky little hands catch Nicky’s sleeve and it reminds her so much of the day she was taken to MAX. This time there’s no CO to bark at Lorna to back away, just Nicky trying to walk herself out. She’s still getting used to being around people with her guard lowered, still getting used to being touched. The clench of Lorna’s fingers around her wrist sends a jolt of electricity and pain through her. All Nicky sees anymore is that ring and she doesn’t want the damn thing near her. 

“Let go, Morello.”

She’ll always be _Morello_. Never Muccio. Fuck Muccio.

“No.” Lorna’s voice cracks and she’s trying so hard to hold on to something that time and choices have left battered and barely there. 

“What else do you want from me?” 

“I—I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”

“Yeah, well, that makes two of us, kid.”

The tears in Lorna’s eyes draw patterns down her cheeks, ruining that makeup she prides herself on. _Look away, Nichols_. _Walk away_. _Quit chasing that straight girl tail_. But Lorna’s more than that. At least, to Nicky she is. Why did it take so long to realize how far gone she is for the girl?

Nicky swallows down her breaking heart that’s aching in her throat and tucks Lorna’s hair behind her ear before she turns away. Lorna reaches for Nicky’s hand, tangles their fingers and squeezes before letting go. 

Her sixth sense of clarity finally kicks in again. This is _real_. This is the world she’s trapped in. Lorna Morello will forever be the girl she can never have and can never escape, not in Litchfield, not in her head. Lorna wanted to settle and so she did. Loving Lorna can’t make her want more than what she tells herself she should, even if Lorna deserves more and could have more, but can’t see that. 

Nicky knows the shit position she’s in. It’s not like she can wash her hands of Lorna Morello, be done and move on. Nicky has tried and failed. Someone has to look out for Lorna and it seems no one in her so-called prison family stepped up in Nicky’s absence. Nicky wants to be that someone, but not now, not yet. It’s going to take time, time she thought they had tons of, just to have it taken away and given back like her whole life is a fucking joke, there to be mocked like a mostly numb animal on display.

She can’t say no to Lorna Morello. She’s proven that time and time again. It’s a pattern. Her own personal pattern. Her own personal midground between heaven and hell. Nicky can’t walk away, not for good, at least not for another two years, but she can walk away from this and now. And when she does walk straight out of the chapel, just like before, Nicky doesn’t look back. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Fact: There was supposed to be a scene where Nicky confronts Red about bearing witness to Lorna’s quickie wedding and not even asking Lorna what in the hell she was thinking, but I decided to save it for another horrible thing I write! 
> 
> I don't know how I feel about this as a piece of writing, but I had to pass on the weird taste season three left in my mouth somehow. Tell me what you think and/or leave your every thought on season 3 below!


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